


με λόγια ελληνικά

by cassanabaratheon



Category: The Durrells (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-17
Updated: 2018-05-17
Packaged: 2019-05-08 05:02:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14687045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassanabaratheon/pseuds/cassanabaratheon
Summary: She has fallen in love with him, through his words, the spoken and the voiceless.





	με λόγια ελληνικά

**Author's Note:**

> title means “with Greek words” - I took inspiration from the song by Antique which had been in my head for ages with regard to these two. I’ve done it so the Greek spoken by the Durrells is in the phonetic Greek which should help people with pronunciation when reading for the non-Greek speakers :)

“ _Ohh-mor-fi_?”

Lugaretzia looks at her quizzically as she kneads the dough that has been the task of the whole morning. The kitchen it a bit of a mess, flour seeming to have gone everywhere. Perhaps because the children (and animals) all had a habit of whirling in and out at odd points, distracting them and causing, as ever, a fair amount of chaos. Well, at least Leslie was somewhat subdued at the moment, slumped at the end of the table, polishing an old rifle.

“ _Ομορφη_?” Lugaretzia corrects and Louisa nods brightly.

“Yes! What does it mean?”

“Beautiful,” Leslie pipes up with a grin. “I said that to all my girlfriends,” his smile fades a bit. “When I had them, that is.”

Louisa and Lugaretzia both ignore that last statement and Louisa makes a small humming noise in the back of her throat.

“Oh, I see.” She doesn’t look at them but rather takes a keen interest in the dough. “ _Oh-mor-fi_.” She tests the word out. “Is that right?”

“Yes, good,” Lugaretzia says in her short tone but with a tiny smile. “Why?”

“Oh, no reason. I just heard it around…”

Leslie is interested now. “Someone called you beautiful?”

“What? No! I just heard it in the,” she flounders for a second. “In the square. I’m trying to improve my vocabulary.”

Her son and the other woman exchange a look before assessing her with raised brows.

“Will you stop looking at me like that please.”

They shrug and go back to their work. 

Louisa bites her lip a little and after a moment asks, “How do you say you are beautiful?”

“Boy or girl?”

“Is there a difference?”

“Yes. Boy;  _είσαι όμορφος_. Girl;  _είσαι όμορφη_.”

“Sounds all Greek to me,” Louisa jokes and is met with an unimpressed look. “Sorry. So,  _ohmorphi_  is to a girl?”

“Yes.”

“And  _ohmofos_  is to a boy.”

“Yes.”

“ _Ohmorfos_.  _Ohmorfi_ ,” she repeats quietly. 

Her heart thumps in her chest. He had called her beautiful. She supresses a smile – or at least tries to – and once more ignores the odd looks her way. “Hm. Well, I think the dough should be ready now, don’t you think?”

  

 

 

* * *

 

 

“ _Erota_ , as in, erotic love?”

Louisa rolls her eyes. Trust Larry to jump straight away onto that. Really, did her son think of nothing else?

“Well, yes, it’s about feeling for a person. You would use it to say you are in love with someone,” Theo answers and Larry makes a thoughtful sound, jotting something down in his notebook – no doubt to use later.

“Gosh, all those words for love. In English we just say I love you and that’s that.”

“Yes,” Theo smiles softly over his glasses. “The Greek language likes to cover all kinds.”

Louisa smiles back and reaches for her glass of water idly. They are outside, enjoying the springtime warmth in the afternoon. Larry has new ideas for a novel and Theo is waiting for Gerry before they go off looking at whatever it is they are interested in right now. She looks at the water and wonders if maybe she has time for a swim.

“But if you just want to say love?”

“ _Αγάπη_ ,” Theo tells her. “It can be used for everything.”

“How do you say ‘I love you’?”

Theo raises his eyebrow and smiles playfully. “Mrs Durrell?” She rolls her eyes and he concedes, “ _Σ’ αγαπώ_.”

Louisa’s brow furrows a little so he says it again, slower, and she tries it out a few times till Theo says it’s perfect.

“You can tell anyone you love them now.”

She does not see the twinkle in his eye and waves her hand to brush the comment off.

“Oh, no, there is no one to say that to. Well, maybe the children,” she adds quickly. “Although I doubt anyone but Leslie will even understand!”

“And me now – thanks, by the way,” Larry interjects. “How do you say you’re in love again?”

“You would say; “ _Είμαι ερωτευμένος μαζί σου_ ”.”

Larry mumbles it back, scribbling away and Theo glances at her, seeing her lips move quietly as she also repeats it. “If you were to say it, Mrs Durrell, it would be “ _ερωτευμένη_ ”.” He says it gently but she colours all the same and takes a quick sip of water.

“Well, thankfully, I will never have to say it so I don’t need to remember it.”

Larry’s head pops up for a moment, giving her a long, thoughtful look but doesn’t say anything as he goes back to writing. 

“I think I’ll just stick to the other one,” she adds and Theo laughs quietly.

Gerry bounds up to them excitedly, Roger following closely, and conversation steers towards safer ground of animals and nature and things Louisa only half-listens to.

 

 

She lies in her bed that night staring at the ceiling in the dark. The house is finally asleep, more or less, and she listens to the gentle brush of the sea against the shore, the low twitters and chirrups of insects and other creatures that have just woken up. It’s peaceful and she drifts in and out of thoughts, of imaginings, of someone other than just herself occupying the bed with her. Her fingers idly play with the buttons of her cotton pyjama shirt and she thinks of another’s hand doing just that – and more – although that is not for tonight.

Tonight, she just sighs gently as she closes her eyes and whispers, “ _S’agapo_ ,” into the darkness before she sleeps.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

She can’t remember all the words that he says to her, they flit in and out of conversation, said in soft little sighs when he thinks she can’t hear him. But she does hear them, doesn’t understand them, yet the sentiment behind the words she recognises, and so she keeps them, stores them away inside of her.

The ones she does recall, she attempts to find out their meaning;  _lovely, lips, dear, eyes, enchanting_. He doesn’t say love again but she doesn’t need him to, she knows it, breathes it silently, every time they are together. She has fallen in love with him, through his words, the spoken and the voiceless, the ones she reads in the way he gazes at her out of the corner of her eye. 

The sun is dipping below the horizon, the sky is set ablaze in reds and oranges, fiery and stirring. He says something, words she will later find out mean something like _tonight, the night is on fire_. But in that moment, as they sit at their spot, close enough to touch but not quite, she just takes in all of his words, absorbs them into her heart and when his eyes met hers, she lets him read all of hers, a reflection of his, and he smiles.

 

 


End file.
